


Leaves From the Vine

by kalirush



Category: The Avengers (2012), Thor (2011)
Genre: Abuse, Angst, Dysfunctional Family, Food Issues, Gen, Hallucinations, Prison, References to Suicide, Suicidal Thoughts
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-06-21
Updated: 2012-06-21
Packaged: 2017-11-08 06:21:45
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,571
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/440106
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/kalirush/pseuds/kalirush
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>After the Chitauri are defeated, Loki is imprisoned on Asgard. Thor visits him, from time to time.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Leaves From the Vine

Loki’s hands are still bound the first time Thor visits his brother. The iron collar around his neck is still bright and new, and he cannot yet be trusted not to rip it from his neck, though he rip his own throat out in the process. Later, Odin assures him. Later, they will unbind his hands. With his magic taken from him, Loki will have only his hands and his words to free himself. They have already decreed that none save the royal family may attend Loki without their ears stopped. Even so, Odin counsels against the visit. 

But Thor is beyond believing that Odin knows best in all things. Thor wants to see his brother.

Loki looks small in the tunic and trousers that they allow him. The cuts and bruises from that last battle are still healing. He has not been shaved, and it gives him a feral look. Thor tries to disguise his pity, but he knows he is failing. Proud Loki will not love him for that.

He does not. “Have you come to stare, brother?” Loki snarls. “Or just to make certain that my chains will hold me fast?”

Thor shakes his head. “I worried for your well-being, brother,” he says, truthfully. “Even after all that you have done, I would not see you treated cruelly.”

Loki’s mouth twists. “It is not _my_ well-being you should worry for, brother,” he says, and then he laughs. The sound takes Thor by surprise, echoing in the cell. “Oh, Thor. Good-hearted and dim-witted Thor. Do you imagine I will stay here forever?”

“I hope not,” Thor says, steeling his heart against whatever cruelty Loki will muster.

“Oh?” Loki says, grinning. “I’m to be released when the term of my sentence is completed, am I? When I’ve _reformed_?”

“Brother,” Thor whispers, thinking of that impossibility. “You are not well.”

Loki slams into the bars that separate them, his head wedged sideways and his eyes wild. “I am the god of tricksters,” he cries, his voice low and as sharp as any blade. “I am the wind and the lie. I am the flame that burns and the water that cools and the beast that bellows. Do you think that there is any prison that can hold _me_?” He laughs, and turns his head face on. His teeth are bared. “When I am free,” he promises, “I will kill the one you love most as payment for this indignity.”

Thor recoils, but dares not speak.

Loki pulls back, his eyes gone deadly and green. “Who will it be?” he says, smiling. “Our devoted and loving father? Or do you love Mummy more? I would spill her blood like crimson paint across her bedchamber.”

Thor stares, sick in the pit of his stomach.

Loki is laughing again. When he stops, he leans back against the wall of his cell. “Or is it that Foster woman?” he asks. “You hid her from me before, but I can find her wherever she goes. She has such a brilliant mind. It is funny, is it not? If I were to dash her head open and spill that brain out on the ground, it would still look no different to any other brain- merely a piece of meat, like any the cooks might prepare for table.” Loki licks his lips. “I am hungry for meat, brother,” he says.

Thor flees the room, and later, Asgard. He tells his father and himself that he is needed on Midgard; that there is much rebuilding to accomplish. This is true. It is also true that he cannot bear to be near the monster that wears his younger brother’s skin.

Loki does not speak the next time that Thor visits him. 

The collar is tarnished now, and Loki’s beard has grown in, patchy and dark. Loki ever preferred to be clean-shaven, and Thor has never seen him with a beard. Thor does not think it suits him. Loki’s hands are unbound at least, his long, slim fingers lying still across his knees. His eyes stare into nothingness, and they do not react when Thor crosses their path.

“Brother,” Thor says, but Loki does not respond. Thor waits in silence for a time. “I miss you, brother,” he says quietly, before he leaves.

Nearly a year passes before Thor visits Loki again. He did not intend to let so much time go by, but he was busy- with Jane, and with the Avengers. And there was that time he got stuck in a magical realm for a hundred years, when only a few months passed on Midgard. Still. He regrets the neglect of his brother.

He regrets it more when he sees Loki. Captivity has not treated him kindly. Loki was always slim, but now he is startlingly thin. Thor can see bloody scratches and red welts where the collar sits around his neck. But he lifts his head to look at Thor, and Loki is there again in those blue eyes. It’s a small relief. “Hello, brother,” Loki says, pleasantly. His lips twist. “I see you didn’t miss me _that_ much.”

“I would ask how you have been,” Thor says, trying to ignore the jab, “But I can see that you have not been well. The jailers are not keeping food from you, are they? I would have words with them, if so.”

“How _kind_ of you,” Loki says. “How _magnanimous_.” He stands, and Thor realizes that his feet are bare. Thor can hardly complain of that, though; where would Loki go, that he needed shoes? “If I was not mad before,” he says, bitterly, “Then this cell has made me so.”

“Were you mad before?” Thor asks.

Loki laughs. “When?” he asks back. “Which time? Perhaps I have always been mad! Which deed would you have me bargain away as proof of my insanity?”

Thor shakes his head. “I am sorry,” he says. “I do not understand.”

Loki stops laughing, and grows serious in an instant. “You never understood me,” he says, his voice vicious, biting. “Three days in the desert did not change that, whatever Mjollnir decided.”

“No,” Thor agrees, because how can he not? “But those days made me more aware of my cruelty to you. I am sorry for that. I never got to make that right.”

“Thor, Thor, Thor,” Loki chides. “I think we’ve gone beyond tallying childhood hurts, have we not? Apologizing for stealing my apple pastry when we were ten will not make me any less a monster now, I’m afraid.”

Thor stares at him helplessly. “Perhaps I should not feel this way,” he says. “But I am glad that you survived. Even broken and mad as you are, I am glad that you did not die when you fell.”

Loki snaps, snarling and screaming. “What right have you to that?” He cries, throwing himself against the bars. “What _right? You were too late, Son of Odin! Years too late to matter!_ ” He is screaming incoherently by the end, and Thor is afraid he will hurt himself. Thor wishes he could reach in and restrain his brother, but Thor does not have the key to his cell, and the bars are too close. It is too much of a risk anyway, he knows. Loki would take any chance to escape.

In the end, he leaves, hoping that Loki will calm himself once Thor is gone.

He finds Asgard too small that night, and entirely too close. He wants to run again, to return to Midgard. But he refuses. He has been gone too long already.

When Thor returns to Loki’s cell in the morning, Loki is sleeping. He is curled into a tight ball with his back to the corner. Thor suddenly realizes that he can see bruises and shock-stick burns on Loki’s arms, where the sleeve of his tunic hangs low. He feels sick, but he tries not to condemn the guards without more knowledge. He knows that his brother can be deadly when provoked. _But he was behind bars, and a danger to no one but himself_ , Thor thinks, unhappily. He resolves to speak to the All-Father about it later. Or perhaps to Mother, because the All-Father can be unbending where it concerns his youngest son.

Thor sits and watches Loki sleep. He wishes that he could say he sees peace on his younger brother’s face; that he is carried back to an easier time in his dreams. It is not so. Loki does not relax, even in sleep, and if he dreams then those dreams are a torment to him. 

Thor does not remember dozing, but he must have. One moment he is contemplating his brother’s sleeping form, and the next, Loki is on his feet. He is staring at Thor coldly. His eyes are Jotun red, though the rest of him is still his more normal shade. “Go,” he says.

“Brother?” Thor starts, but Loki cuts him off with an angry gesture.

“You have no business here, Son of Odin,” Loki snarls, biting the words off precisely. “Go and do not return. I do not care for your pity, and I will not abide it any longer. Leave me be, and think on me no longer, Thor Thunderer.”

Loki cannot force him to leave, and has no power to prohibit his return. All the same, Thor goes. _Perhaps it is too late, after all_ , he worries. _Perhaps there is no way for him to return._

Mother is kind, when she sees him return to the palace. Jane is also, when he returns to Midgard. For a time, he tries to do as Loki asked.

But the day comes when he can bear it no longer. Jane travels with him this time, and she is much enchanted with Asgard. She and Heimdall have long conversations, and Thor cannot help but think that Loki would have enjoyed them- filled as they are with a passion for knowledge and scholarly debate. Thor does not ask Mother how his brother is; he will see for himself soon enough. 

Thor dreads his descent into the dungeons. All the same, he goes that night, after the feast. He hides food in his pockets. He can bring Loki that much of a gift, at least.

Loki’s hair is very long now, and his beard is full. Thor wonders that he has never asked to have it cut- but perhaps he would have been refused. Too dangerous to bring scissors into his cell; too much risk. Loki looks up calmly as Thor enters the room. “Hello, Thor,” he says.

“Hello, Loki,” Thor answers. He finds his voice rough and choked, but he presses on. “How have you fared? I spoke to Mother about your treatment. I hope the guards are as kind as they may be.”

Loki does not answer that. “Why have you come here today?” he asks. “Why does Thor step down from his mighty throne to greet me?”

Thor is confused. “I have no throne, Brother,” he says. He pauses. “I came because I missed you,” he says, carefully. He does not think Loki would care for _because I worried for you_. “Are you hungry?” he asks, brightly. “I brought food, if you would like some.” He pulls it from his pockets- good white bread, and hard cheese, and a slice of roast. Nothing with seeds or bones that Loki might turn to a weapon.

Loki laughs. “Is that to be the game today?” he asks. “At least it is a kind one. I suppose I should enjoy it while it lasts.”

Thor does not know what to make of that, but he passes the food between the bars. Loki shudders and picks up the bread gingerly. His wrist is skeleton thin, but he does not attack the food as though he were starving. Instead, he picks at it cautiously, pulling pieces off and examining them before he puts them in his mouth. 

“You are quiet today,” Loki says, laughing. “No shouting? No weeping?” He looks down at the bread in his hand. “Or is the food poisoned- do you mean to watch me die writhing this time?” He takes another bite, seemingly unbothered by the prospect.

“Brother?” Thor says, his chest tight. “What are you saying? I do not understand.”

Loki shrugs. “No, I do not imagine you do, shade.”

Loki looks almost through him, and in a moment of sick realization, he knows that his brother thinks him an hallucination. “I am no shade,” he protests. 

Loki laughs. “No,” he says. “Of course not. You are my brother, and this is real food, and these prison walls will melt away and I will find myself back in my bedchamber, secure in the realization that all this, all this madness, all this _evil_ was nothing more than a bit of bad pork!” He is shouting by the end. Loki looks up at his brother, and suddenly his eyes are clear, and sharp, and every bit himself. “The madness is kinder than the reality, Thor,” he says. 

Thor is left gaping, and the moment passes. Loki returns, humming, to his meal. “If you’re not going to kill me,” Loki says, “then I don’t see the point of you.”

Thor has no answer to that. He stands, watching, until Loki has eaten. As Loki licks the last crumbs from his fingers, Thor flees.

Later, in his chambers, he talks to Jane about it. She is warm at his side, and her presence alone is a comfort to him. She runs a hand down his chest. “How was he?” she asks, because she always seems to know what troubles him. 

“Not well,” Thor says, frowning. “Jane?” he asks. “He did such terrible things. Am I wrong to wish- to wish that he no longer had to suffer?”

Jane shakes her head, but she considers before she speaks. “From what you’ve said,” she begins, tentatively. “And what I know about what happened... your brother is sick. It might be that he can’t ever be made well. He has to be guarded so that he doesn’t hurt anyone again, but it doesn’t mean that it’s wrong to care about him.”

Thor thinks on that. He lies awake long after Jane is asleep, snoring gently against his chest.

Thor returns to Loki’s cell the next day with more food. “Hello, Thor,” Loki says, calmly. Thor puts down the food, and then shoves his arm roughly between the bars. He can only reach in to the elbow, and he can’t quite reach his brother where he is sitting on the floor. Loki recoils, staring at Thor’s hand.

“I am no shade,” Thor insists. “No figment or trick of your mind.”

Loki backs further away. “My brother would be angrier,” he says. “And stupider, most like.”

Thor huffs out a breath. “The rages of Thor Thunderer are legendary,” he agrees. “But this storm has had a long time to blow itself out.”

“I want your pity less than your anger,” Loki snarls.

Thor frowns. “Then you should be less piteous!” he snaps.

Loki laughs at him for a long moment. As he laughs, his skin color changes. His voice becomes deep and resonant. The collar prevents all other shape-shifting, but this, apparently, is innate. “I cannot be other than I am, brother,” he says. “Abandon what hope you had for me. I am a monster, and if you let me, I will devour everything you love.”

“It was not always so,” Thor says, sorrowfully. 

“No,” Loki says, his eyes still red. “It was. It was just that you did not see it. The All-Father kept it secret from us all.”

Thor pulls his hand back and lets himself fall to the floor. “I miss my brother,” he says, his voice strange and small. “He was clever, and funny, and loyal. He knew when I had gone too far, and I could trust him to pull me back. I miss _you_ , Loki.” 

Loki hisses, and Thor half-expects to see that he has changed himself into a serpent, or a cat. But, of course, the collar prevents that. “I think you have also been seeing figments, brother,” Loki says. “I have gone too far for that. There is too much blood on my hands for me to ever be forgiven. I cannot pay weregild for all those I have wronged; the price is too high, and I have nothing to pay with.”

Thor’s breath hitches. “Would you?” he asks. “If you could, would you make restitution?”

Loki only laughs, high and strange and frightening. After a time, Thor leaves the food on the floor of his cell and departs.

The Avengers contact him about an emergency that night, and Thor returns to Midgard with Jane. There are many robots. He and Mjollnir make short work of them, with his companions by his side. 

He is busy then, as is Jane. There is much work to do, and it is many months until he returns to Asgard, dread in his heart. He endures the feast of welcome, and the embraces from his parents. It is true that he has missed them; true that their company is welcome. But it is also true that Loki waits for him, and he fears their next meeting.

He did not expect to find Loki clean-shaven. His hair is cut to the length that he preferred it before all their troubles. His face is smooth. Pale, but Loki was ever pale. He is still thin, but there are no bruises that Thor can see. There are scars on his neck around the collar, but they are silvery and old. He sits on his bed with his long limbs folded up against his body. When Thor enters, he says, quietly, “They told me you had come to visit.”

Thor nods. “Do you know me, brother?” he asks, hesitantly.

Loki nods, but his eyes are distant. They do not quite meet Thor’s. “I know you, Thor,” he says. “Thor Thunderer. Thor Odinsson.” He pauses. “Thor Lokisbroder, perhaps, for all that I am no Odinsson.” He looks up. “I must beg of you a favor,” he says. His eyes are quiet and sad, but he seems to be himself.

“What favor?” Thor asks, warily. “I will grant it, if it will do no one any harm.”

Loki smiles, his lips curling back from his teeth like the long, slow opening of a flower. “Kill me,” he says. “You have done it so many times in my dreams.”

Thor recoils. When he speaks, he realizes that he is shouting. “No!” he cries. “You would have me become a kinslayer?” he asks. “Worst and most despicable among criminals? You cannot _ask_ this, brother!”

“Kill me or set me free,” Loki breathes. “I cannot bear this any longer. You never were cruel, Thor. Thoughtless, but not cruel.”

Thor wants to scream. “You must find a way,” he says, grinding his teeth. “I cannot let you go free, for fear all your terrible promises will come true. And I will not kill you, brother.”

Loki slumps against the wall. Thor leaves before he does something ill-advised. He flees Asgard altogether, but he cannot bear the thought of returning to Midgard. He travels to Vanaheim and Alfheim and even Muspelheim, questing and doing mighty deeds. After some time, he returns to Jane, who must have worried over his long absence. When he has reassured her, he steels himself for Asgard.

Asgard is quiet when he returns. There are no mourning banners, but Thor can sense the ill feeling before he enters the palace. There is no cheering crowd to greet him, nor welcome banquet. Mother and Father seem sad, and Thor knows why without being told.

Loki’s body was laid in the family crypt, deep in the catacombs. Now, in death, he has been dressed again in a prince’s clothes. After seeing him for so long in the drab tunic and trousers of prison, it seems strange to see him again in green and black. Thor weeps, and holds his little brother’s body to his chest. “I failed you,” he cries. “I am so sorry. There should have been something I could do.” Loki’s body is so light; waxy and still for all it is preserved by magic. When he lays it down again, he smooths Loki’s clothes; pushes his hair out of his face. 

He catches sight of the collar, then. It is bright silver again, as though someone polished it when they prepared Loki’s body. Thor can see the way that it digs into his brother’s neck, the scars that surround it. It makes him angry. He reaches down and takes the collar in his hand. He crumples it and pulls it from Loki’s neck, throwing it, clattering, against the wall.

Thor sits for a long moment, breathing heavily.

Then he hears laughter, long and low. Thor’s eyes snap open, only to see Loki’s eyes open. They are bright and wicked and so very _alive_. “Thank you, brother,” Loki says, and sits up. “You have done me a great service. I think I shall consider your earlier debt to me paid.” With that, he grins, and is gone.

Thor feels sick. Innocents will pay, he knows, for what he did so unknowingly today. His brother is truly a beast.

_Even so_ , Thor thinks, and hates himself. _Even so, I am glad he is not dead._

**Author's Note:**

> I started this wanting to write a story where Loki was healed; where his madness could be fixed and his crimes redeemed. I _tried_ , but he wouldn't let me. He is beyond fixing, he tells me. And even if he could be healed, pride would not let him accept it.


End file.
